


A Shot in the Dark

by MagicMane



Category: Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alleyway, Blood, Broken, Christmas, Comfort, Death, Demons, Friendship, Help, Holidays, Hospital, Hurt, Love, Murder, Paranormal, Possession, Specter, Supernatural - Freeform, Wounded, dying, friends - Freeform, ghostbusters - Freeform, injured, relationships, shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-12 22:38:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16004750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMane/pseuds/MagicMane
Summary: A possessive demon aims to destroy the Ghostbusters by forcing a young student to take the life of his mentor.





	1. The Alleyway

It was late when the four Ghostbusters were riding back from a bust in the Ecto-1. It was another free repeater, but a difficult one, which had left it’s mark on all of their faces.

Egon sat in the back of the Ecto, lost in thought, eyes closed and brows furrowed. He had been that way for a while. The others thought he was doing calculations in his head, so they let him be.

Despite having a few new fledgling crew members back at the firehouse, Peter, Ray, and Winston couldn't resist sticking around, trying to relive their bustin' days, and it wasn’t getting any easier. It had been a rocky start, and Egon would often find himself caught in the crossfire of a generational war between his colleagues and his students. Things had changed.

Just then, Ray called out from the driver’s seat, offering to buy everyone a late night snack in an attempt to raise their morale. Peter and Winston agreed and they pulled into a rather well lit diner. 

"How 'bout you, Egon? You want anything?" Ray asked as they exited the car.

"Oh, I'm not going to get anything, but thanks for the offer, Ray." Egon said politely. His voice was tired. As he shut the door, Egon rested his arms up on the roof, and his eyes trailed off. "Uh, you guys go in. I'm going to stretch my legs a bit."

“Stretch your legs- we just came back from a bus – “ Peter’s comment was cut short when Winston’s rock hard hand found the back of his head with a sound pop. 

They gradually went inside and stood to the side of the counter, waiting to order, as Egon sauntered off down the sidewalk under the dim lights, hands in his pockets.

"What's with him?" Ray asked, confused.

Peter joked, "Fatherhood is exhausting, Ray-" Winston jabbed him in the arm.  
“And he does it again!” Peter glared at Winston, rubbing his arm.

"No doubt your'e reffering Kylie, Garrett, and the others?" Winston asked.

"Well, yah, who else?" Peter’s reply was dripping with attitude.

Winston shook his head. "You know they're good kids. Egon taught them right. We just gotta give em' a chance. Egon's probably just a little overwhelmed, that's all. After all, we are the ones who've been acting childish. He's probably sick of separating us- all the arguing- hell, it might not even be that! He's probably just collecting some mold or SPORE samples for his experiments." Winston twisted his nose at the sound of the word "spore." It wasn't exactly the most appealing hobby to talk about. 

“You’re probably right.” Ray accepted.

“About which part?” Winston half joked.

***

 

Egon walked down the street, looking at the pavement beneath him almost the whole time. Not car on the road. Not a person in sight. He eventually found himself standing at the entrance of a long alleyway. It was a calm night, and the faint sounds of paper blowing across the ground and cats meowing could be heard. As scary as the night was, he was finally alone.

He loved the guys. Peter, Ray, and Winston were the only family he’d ever known, but he also loved his new family. Kylie, Eduardo, Garrett, and Roland needed him in a different way, not only for his intellect but his guidance. He was like a father figure to them, or so he wanted to believe. With the two sides colliding, he often found himself in the middle, struggling to help the two sides see eye to eye. Most of his attempts proved in vain, and the more useless attempts he made, the more he began to feel useless. Phased out. Unneeded. Unwanted. And he was starting to wonder if he even belonged there anymore. 

Egon stood in the faintly lit alleyway, far from where he began, shoulders slumping, hand on his hot forehead and then gradually moving down to relieve his aching beak of his glasses. He massaged the bridge of his nose, and scrunched his face in an attempt to hold off the emotion he felt welling up in his throat. Eventually he let out a stifled sigh, and sniffed. 

Coming to his senses, he pushed his glasses back up on his nose. Egon, get a hold of yourself, he thought. Everything is fine. Everything will be different tomorrow. You just need a little more than your usual 14 minutes of sleep tonight. He paused, taking in his surroundings, his eyes drawn to the humming alley lamp. Another wave of emotion swept over him. Then why are you in an alley, filled with dumpsters and trash bags, talking to yourself? He tried to distract himself, but the ache in his heart was too painful to deny. He finally admitted to himself – he was lonely. Ironically amidst all the commotion and extra company at the firehouse, he had felt more cut off from companionship than ever before. 

"Ugh!" He was disgusted with himself. Was this normal? Or was he losing his edge - his sanity. He was a man of science, not emotion. He used to long to be alone, and now - it seemed he was changing right along with everything else. 

"Work." He said. Work . There had been no time in the past few months to work on any experiments of his own, or complete any projects for the team with all the distractions. That's what he needed! There had been too much downtime where his thoughts had been able to run wild. He needed to get busy. If he indeed going to pull himself out of this “funk,” this "depression," he needed to keep himself busy. 

He stopped. Oh no, how long had he been in there? The guys were probably wondering what he was doing, or did they even care? Well, he said to himself, better appear like I was here with a purpose. He pulled out a few sample containers from his jumpsuit pockets, containers that would soon be holding all samples of grossness from the alley where he was. He began to kneel down when his PKE meter, which had been hanging at his hip, started to vibrate and chirp- the lighted arms levitating upward.

"What the-?" He took it in hand. He focused on the screen intently as he played with the dials, wondering if it indeed had been a faulty reading since it was so strong, yet there was nothing in his surroundings that signaled an impending entity. Then as quickly as the PKE had come to life, it quickly died, as if exhausted from overload.

"Dr. Spengler? Is that you?" Came a voice from behind. Egon jumped and dropped the PKE meter on the pavement below. He cringed as it cracked. Half crouched, he whirled around. The figure had come from the opposite end of the alleyway and emerged from the shadows. The voice, although having taken Egon by surprise, was recognized immediately.

"Eduardo? Oh, Eduardo- what-what are you doing out here?" Egon struggled to catch his breath, still holding his hand over his rapidly beating heart. He began walking over to his student.

"Shouldn't you be back at the lab?" Egon waited for a response, any response, but Eduardo didn't respond. He lifted his head and Egon halted. 

There was an oddly sinister expression on Eduardo's face as he squinted down his nose at his mentor. Egon's somewhat surprised and glad expression turned to dread.

"Well, Dr. Spengler,” he paused, “I could ask you the same question." 

That's when he saw the slightest glint of red flash from deep down in Eduardo's already dark eyes. Egon's heart sank and his stomach dropped as he realized what was going on. Eduardo's hand disappeared into the large pocket of his hooded sweatshirt and Egon froze like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with fear. 

As Eduardo pulled the gun from his pocket, Egon broke away from his trance and instinctively set a hand out to grab the gun from his young friends hand, but Eduardo blocked him. Using one hand, Eduardo grabbed Egon's right arm, pushing it away from the weapon and wrenching Egon's arm in the process. Egon was rendered defenseless as his arm felt like it was going to snap like a small twig. All the while Egon was keeping in mind the direction of the gun barrel, and it was pointing his way. 

That's when Eduardo pulled the trigger.

 

to be continued...


	2. Into Darkness

Egon cringed. It was all so surreal, and some very small part of Egon thought that maybe this wasn't really happening. It was just the brains way of coping with that which the body couldn't handle. There was a bright light and a bang so quick and deafening that he wondered if he had even heard it. The light continued to blind him as the pain ran it's first pulse through his body. Egon's eyes were pinned open, all the while looking into some empty space past Eduardo, and small tears began to form. His knees buckled as he clutched his side, while his other hand slid out of his assailants grip as he fell backwards.

He landed roughly on a pile of garbage bags, filled with all kinds of odd shaped objects that were now jabbing into his back as he lay there. His mouth fell open and his head fell back - his eyes gazing up towards the skimpily starred sky above. He squeezed his eyes shut, and his body curled in on itself, as if the motion could expel the bullet from his side. 

Eduardo ran to the end of the alley and stopped. It was then that the demon inside him forced itself into the cold night air. Eduardo took a breath like he hadn't been able to breathe for ages, only to gasp at the sight of the nightmarish specter hovering above him. 

The demon, although holding no defined shape, seemed to chill one to their very core. A swirling cloud or black, purple, and red sand was suspended above Eduardo, constantly shifting form. Two red almond shaped eyes grew in the center of the mass – like an eerie light in a black hole.

Eduardo, energy spent, was crouched on the ground, hands tightly gripping locks of his hair to ground himself.

The demon looked down at him pathetically. "I wouldn't spend too much time there.” Its voice was hard to describe. It was ethereal, deep, and resonating, capable of making hairs stand on end. “The police are going to be here, and when they do-" it laughed, "you'll be going to a new home- they’ll be locking you away for a long, long time." 

Eduardo, still confused and emotional, replied "Wha- what are you talking about?" He regretfully turned around and focused his attention down the alleyway. He could see a familiar figure laying there. "Oh no - no, no, no, no!"

The demon laughed, enjoying every bit of what he had just set into motion. 

"You shot mm-mmy fre- you shot – Eeeegg-!" Eduardo sobbed out.

"No, no- correction- you. YOU did this to him - your friend and mentor - a man who trusted you implicitly. YOU put the bullet in him!" The demon shouted. "Look at it this way, you gave your mentor and incredible gift- the chance to finally know what death is all about- a chance to do observe first hand- a chance to do his research from the other side!" It laughed, and Eduardo, angered, swung through the air trying haplessly to strike a blow to his former possessor, but the demon just disappeared, as if fading from a waking dream. "Bye bye, Eduardo" he heard it say, mockingly childish, "and goodbye,” he choked on the name “Eeeegon . . ."

Eduardo was standing helplessly at the far entrance of the alley as the demon left, leaving a gaping hole of silence in the night. He regained his senses and looked over his shoulder, and soon he was running.

It was all a blur. All Eduardo could hear was the sound of his heart pounding in his chest and his lungs gasping for air. As he slowed, he found himself upon an unsettling sight.

He had been tempted to run and never look back, but he would never be able to forgive himself for abandoning Egon. Even though they rarely saw eye to eye, Eduardo had always respected the man. Sure, Eduardo constantly argued with him. Egon was just the kind of guy who was fun to piss off – something Venkman could relate to. But beneath the tough exterior, Eduardo would never admit, he had a soft spot for the doctor. 

Egon Spengler. One of creations most incredibly tight lipped, aloof, and rarely emotional beings, yet with all his social shortcomings, he had somehow managed to win the hearts of those few he had become close to. Without even trying, he had proven himself most endearing. 

But here he was, standing above Egon, who was lying helplessly on his back. Egon was panting, still clutching his right side, just below the ribs. The sweat that was running down the Ghostbusters face blended in with the tears trailing from the corners of his eyes. His body never settled, fighting the pain with the little strength he had left. Eduardo knelt down beside him and put a hand on Egon's shoulder.

"Egon-" Eduardo could barely get the name out as he started to cry.

Egon pried his tightly shut eyelids open and found Eduardo next to him. He looked startled at first, having once again seen the face of the one who shot him standing over him. He blinked, eyes wandering weakly to meet Eduardo’s. "Ed-uar-do?" Egon’s breath hitched. He squeezed his eyes shut, arching his head back in a cry of pain. Hearing such a high octave come from normally baritone-voiced Egon, startled the younger man.

Eduardo couldn't take it anymore, and all his emotions came pouring out of him as he held his dying mentor. "Oh Egon, . . . I'm so sorry." He cried. "The demon- I didn't know- aww God!" He bit his lip and sniffed in, hard, tears pouring down his face.

Egon managed to open his eyes again. "I-I know," said Egon, exhaustingly. "It's not . . . your fault."

Somehow it relieved Eduardo to know that Egon knew this, that his student would never wish for this kind of fate to be thrust upon his mentor. But the guilt remained.  
Egon coughed hoarsely, causing his injury to pain him more. It was then that Eduardo really noticed the blood for the first time. There was so much. He felt sick. The grayish flight suit had now been dyed crimson. Egon instinctively gripped his side tighter, trying to stop the bleeding, blood escaping between the fingers of his gloveless hand. Egon tried to compose himself, groaning and grimacing, boots shifting and sliding against the pavement. 

“Aww, God, Egon – hang on, man.” Eduardo rocked back and forth on his knees, trying to comfort himself as he looked around for the radio. “I-I gotta get help.” He said to himself.

"Egon, you ready man? We got the food we're gonna head back now-" Ray's voice came over the static on Egon's radio. Egon writhed and Eduardo looked at him, unsure of what he should do. "Egon?" Rays voice was stern and elevated now. "Egie? Spengs, pick up, will ya?" 

Eduardo took the radio off Egon’s belt loop, and held it in hand, fingers poised over the button.

***

 

Ray took his thumb off the radio button, loud hip hop music still playing in the restaurant as they gathered the take-out. "We better go get him.” Ray said.  
“Probably in the middle of extracting one of his specimens." Winston added.

***

 

Egon clapped his other hand limply on Eduardo's shoulder. "Go," he gargled.

"What?" Eduardo was confused and lowered the radio.

"Go!" Egon bellowed. "Get out of here- they'll - they'll . . ." His voice trailed off. It was just then that Eduardo realized he still had the gun. "Go . . . get rid of it. Get - someplace safe." 

Eduardo stood up. "But - but what about -"

Egon’s weak voice came in short, shallow gasps."They're . . . coming. Leave me! Go. I’m okay." I’m okay. Egon, what the hell were you thinking? That was the furthest from the truth. You’re on death’s door and you’re making excuses. You just told Eduardo to save his own ass, without giving any thought to your own.

Eduardo could hear voices coming from outside the alley. Going against all his instincts, he tore himself away from the pale professor. He took a few steps and looked back  
.  
“Goooo - ahh!” Egon commanded.

Eduardo ran away into the night.

Egon had strained a glance down the alleyway to see if Eduardo had left. At least he would be safe, for now. They were both in enough trouble already, but if any of the guys knew Eduardo had pulled the trigger, he would be in more danger than he was now. As his head was propped up he caught a glimpse of his side. Oh shit. His chest knotted, and his heart seemed to beat faster than it already was – if that was even possible. Egon grimaced as his head fell back down amongst the trash heap. Oh, God. He was beyond terrified now, and began to worry. A little while ago, he had reveled in the chance at being alone, away from everyone to gather his thoughts, and now – he longed for someone at his side.

The air was getting cold now, and the once warm blood under his palm had done the same. This was it. This was the end. He had no control. This was how he was going to die. Shot in an alleyway and left on a pile of discarded trash. He started to shudder slightly, and his vision started to narrow. He also noticed the pain had started to dull, and was replaced with a sickly numbness. That only meant one thing – Egon was going into shock. He looked up into the night sky again, past the dim red buzzing alley lamps, and could see his breath rise up out of his mouth as he trembled. At least he still had a breath, he thought. But fewer and fewer came, and he began to not care anymore, or was it think. He didn’t know. His mind was running out of steam. Like a computer, he was powering down. All he was sure of was the feeling of complete and utter loneliness. He lowered his eyelids halfway as the tension in his body seemed to leave, and his bloodied hand slid off of his side. So this is it, huh? His thoughts were vague and he was only half aware of them as he felt his soul slipping away.

 

to be continued ...


	3. Holding On

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down between the buildings. The three Ghostbusters went to the few neighboring alleyways calling for their lost friend.

“Egon!” Ray called out. “Egon, where are you?”

“Egie!” Peter called out.

“Spengs, come on, man! This isn’t funny anymore.” Winston shouted.

The three stopped in front of the last of the nearest alleys, scratching their heads. “Well, I don’t know, where could he have gone?” Winston looked at Peter.

“I don’t know, maybe-" Peter stopped as something caught his eye. “Oh no.”

He ran off down the alleyway as fast as his feet could carry him. He called back to Ray, “Get the Ecto down here now!” Ray flew back out to the street, but Winston followed Peter. His medical knowledge might prove useful, whatever had happened to their friend.

Peter got to Egon first. A knot formed in his stomach and throat as he fell to his knees beside his old college buddy. Egon’s weight alone had caused the bags beneath him to shift outward. He had slid down onto his side, coming to rest on the hard, uncomfortable ground. Peter saw the dark red blood on Egon and the uneven stones beneath him. Egon was pale and sickly looking, except for the darker circles around his half opened, and unfocused eyes.

Winston joined his colleague. He was used to seeing things like this, but seeing a friend in this condition was different.

“Egon – big guy? Come on, stop fooling around! Talk to me man!" He started to sob as he was met with no reaction from Egon. Nothing mattered anymore, nothing mattered except Egon. Peter lifted the taller man up into his arms, cradling his head - the physicists dark curly hair falling onto Peter’s arm.

Peter listened for breath, but heard none.

Winston leaned in and quickly examined the wound. “Looks like gunshot.” Peter shied away at the words.

“Shot?” Peter felt nauseous. Why would anyone want to shoot his friend?  
Winston then took Egon’s pulse.

Peter looked on. He wasn’t thinking at all. How stupid was he not to check. He looked at Winston, who was shaking his head.“What? Well?” He asked impatiently, afraid to hear the answer.

“I – I – I don’t know, Peter. I can’t feel one.”

Peter glared at him with watering eyes, then back to Egon. “He can’t be!” He shouted angrily.  
The Ecto’s motor sounded in the distance, moving ever closer. As Ray got out of the car, Winston went to meet him.

Peter didn’t know what to do. Was Egon still alive? He had to be! Beneath that frail exterior he had to be in there. Spengs would never give up this easily. Peter put his hand down firmly on Egon’s abdomen. “Sorry about this, Egs. God, I don’t even know if you can still hear me,” his voice muffled against his collar. “I can’t lose you – not like this. COME ON, BRANIAC!” A single tear plopped onto the stiff fabric of his downed friend’s uniform.

Ray and Winston approached slowly from behind.

"Who-" Peter managed to smile, “Whose going to set my ass straight, or stop me from running my mouth off – come on! Goddamn it! Don’t you leave! You unfeeling . . . brainy,” his voice cracked as he ran a hand through Egon’s hair and down the side of his bespectacled face, "loveable . . . son of a bitch.” He closed his eyes, hand pressing on Egon’s side even harder.

Peter’s hand suddenly rose. The words and the pain of pressure on the wound roused him from the deep place his friend was in. Egon took in a shuddering and labored breath, blinking slowly, dazed. His dilated eyes became pinholes as his eyes widened and focused. He groaned from the pressure of Peter’s hand. "Ahh-" His voice was a weak and barely audible whisper.

Peter’s head jerked up, “Egon? Egie! Oh my God, buddy come on, stay with me!” Egon’s stained hand searched for something to hold onto, and then locked into a rigid half fist. His gaze trailed to Peter, and for a moment Peter caught a glimpse of relief in his eyes. "Pet-er . . .," and buried his head against Peter’s chest, striving for some sense of security. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.” Peter repeated, trying to comfort his friend, as well as himself.

__________________________________________

Moving Egon’s lanky, almost lifeless body from the alley floor into the car was the worst thing any of them had ever done. He was in enough pain already, and the move was not the smoothest. There was no time to call an ambulance. The Ecto would have to do.

Peter resumed his position inside the car with Winston at his side, keeping pressure on the bleeding. Egon’s head rested on Peter’s lap. Ray drove like a bat out of hell, watching the road through a layer of water in his eyes. They had their friend back for a moment, but he wasn’t out of danger yet.

Peter spoke softly down to Egon as the Ecto rolled down the road. “Hey Spengs? Spengs?" Egon blinked. "What happened back there, huh?” Winston looked at Peter, knowing Egon was probably too weak to respond. “Who did this to you?”

Egon tried to answer but his consciousness started to fade again.

“Step on it, Ray!”

The Ecto flew over the pavement of the abandoned streets at close to 1 AM in the morning, sirens wailing. 

It was the longest ride of their lives.

______________________________________

Eduardo leaned against the railing at the edge of the water. He looked around to see if there was anyone around. He took the gun out of his pocket, gripping it with only a few fingers, as if he was careful not to contaminate his hand with its evil. Not that he had much experience with guns. His father had owned one, that’s all. He knew how to open it and extract the bullets, and he did so. They plunked into the water, one by one, followed by a larger plunk as the gun followed. 

He hung his head there for a moment, and cried. Beyond the buildings he could hear the Ecto’s sirens wailing in the night, searching for the hospital.

 

To be continued . . .


	4. Shadows

Egon couldn’t see anything without his glasses. All he could see were fuzzy shapes surrounding him. People. Other doctors. They were all so tall, and they were talking about him, sometimes leaning down inches away from his face, looking intently into his eyes to see if anyone was home. There was a bulging transparent form fitted over his mouth and nose that kept obstructing his vision, or what vision he had. He felt like he was floating. Lights were passing. Lots of lights – directly above – each one the same as the other. He was getting dizzy. It all seemed like a dream. Why was he there?

His eyelids fell. His world went black. His mind had finally shut off. Time had no relevance where he was. Egon lay on the rolling gurney, motionless. 

_____________________________________

 

Winston had waited until the doctor’s had taken Egon into surgery before he called the firehouse. Kylie answered the phone, and almost dropped it when she heard what had happened. It wasn’t long before Janine had roused from sleep to ask what was going on. Tears in her eyes, Kylie told her.

 

_____________________________________ 

 

It was a dark, lonely, silent night as Eduardo walked hurriedly under the buzzing streetlamps. Hood over his head and hands in his pockets he continued until he heard a noise. He darted around to see the sidewalk behind him. No one was there. 

A little farther down the street, a lamp suddenly went black behind him. His eyes fixed on the dark void. His breath held as he saw the light adjacent to the one that had gone out, go black as well. It was followed by a third, fourth, fifth, as on and on the lights were swallowed into the pitch blackness. Eduardo was left in the open air of the night. He watched the nearby buildings for some evidence of his stalker. There was nothing. Everything was still until an odd wind bristled every hair on his body. He could hear a humming, so low the human ear could barely make it out. The hum suddenly became louder, as if a bee had flown directly into Eduardo’s ear. It was a startling and electrical. Then he heard a voice come from it.

Eduardo panicked. He ran towards the city lights he could still see, while all the while being fully aware that the ones he passed were being painfully extinguished. He ran and ran until his legs seemed to go limp and he was gaining no ground. He ducked into a little alcove, waiting for the thing that was following to rear its ugly face. 

He heard a noise. Startled, he sidestepped, hearing a sickly crunch under his foot. Gulping, he looked down. Under his large boot was a mouse. The poor, small, whiskered creature had been crushed by Eduardo’s misstep. He bent down to take a closer look. Despite it’s injuries, the mouse was still breathing, short and shallow little gasps. Eduardo began crying the most painful cry he’d ever experienced in his life. What was he doing? He could care less about this meager rodent. Why did it bother him so much?

He leaned over, hoping, praying that its suffering would come to an end. Slowly, but surely he saw the beating slow, the breaths became fewer. Then, with a haunting squeak, the mouse lowered it head, and the breathing ceased. Eduardo sat there for a while, wiping his watering eyes on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. He suddenly remembered why he was where he was. Whatever was after him was sure to find him soon, if not already. Picking his head up, Eduardo took one last look down at the helpless creature he had just killed. He blinked, thinking his eyes were playing a cruel trick on him. There was something on the ground. Eduardo picked it up carefully. As the object between his fingers came closer to view, his heart sank. He didn’t believe it, but it was real. From less than an inch from the mouse’s nose, he had recovered from the cold pavement . . . a tiny pair of round wire-rimmed glasses. 

He looked up and saw the demons red glowing eyes, and its voice was all too clear.   
“One down,” it said as it held up a pair of long clawed hands and slowly bent one finger down, hiding it from view, tallying the demise of his first victim. It lunged for Eduardo.

to be continued...


	5. Waiting

Eduardo awoke suddenly, gasping for air. He wiped the dried salt from the tears on his cheeks. It was light already. He must’ve fallen asleep. Where was he? 

Without contemplating any further, he stood up. He was in another alleyway. This one was less dingy. Apparently he had slept in a nest of cardboard sheets and boxes that had been thrown out. The late morning sun showed through the spaces between the buildings. He was surprised that the hustling and bustling sounds of the city did not wake him.

A flash of his half-remembered dream came to him. The mouse. The glasses. Glasses! Egon! Oh God! He remembered the early morning’s events, despite his minds attempts to erase them from his consciousness. He shot Egon, and left him on the street! Oh no, no, no! Egon could be dead now. What time was it?

Eduardo braced himself against the brick wall, and came back to reality for yet another harrowing thought to cross his mind. The demon is still out there! The others could be in danger! What if he’s already gotten to them? 

I have to get back the firehouse, he thought.

_____________________________

 

It had been hours since Peter had given his friend up to the care of the doctors. The police had come for questioning, but the three Ghostbusters had no answers to give.   
Ray sat back in an uncomfortable chair, tensely, arms folded across his chest. Winston was sitting on the edge of his seat, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely folded, perhaps in prayer. Peter, on the other hand, was sprawled out across a few seats, his arm bent, burying his face in his elbow. This way, no one could see his him - see the emotions on his face as he replayed the night’s events in his mind. His other hand was pressed firmly against his chest, holding Egon’s glasses close to his heart. With each hour that went by he held them ever closer.

Each one sat there … waiting. Waiting for news of Egon. Waiting for one small shread of hope.

______________________________

 

It was early evening when Eduardo slowly opened the door to the firehouse, the creak echoing in the empty building. The sun was coming through the side windows, illuminating the interior in a warm glow. He called out, but no one answered. Somehow, it was a relief. He wouldn’t have to answer to anyone just yet, to explain how he allowed a spirit to possess him into killing –

He paused, leaning on the stair railing, wishing time could stop, or reverse. He wished he could erase the last 24 hours and wake up from this bad dream, but it was only a wish.  
He started up the stairs again, and stopped suddenly when he heard a noise.

The footsteps were getting closer, and as they rounded the top of the stairs, he gazed upon a familiar face.

“Kylie?” 

“Eduardo?” She said, a confused tone in her voice. Her voice was shaky, and her eyes were swollen. As she neared he could see tear trails down her cheeks.

"Kylie –" he was interrupted.

“Where have you been?” She shouted, never breaking eye contact with him. He flinched at her words, even though he could feel them coming.  
“I-I . . .”

“I-I . . .” she mimicked him as she descended the stairs, “I thought so. You’re never around when we need you!” Her shrill accusation reverberated off the station walls. She continued but her voice got weaker and she put her hands on Eduardo’s chest in a sad attempt to shove him, but he caught her wrists and held them firmly.

“Kylie!” He shouted, finally getting her attention. He gulped. “I- I know about Egon.”

“You should! Everyone knows! How could this happen- something like this . . . to him?”

His voiced cracked and her eyes went wide. “Kylie. I know what did this.”  
She was in disbelief. He continued. "There was a demon –"

He was cut off by a shrill ring from the phone. She ran over quickly to answer it.  
It was Winston. She could barely get it out, but she asked the inevitable question. “How’s Prof. Spengler?”

“He made it! He pulled through!” Winston exclaimed.

Eduardo could hear Winston from a few feet away, and he sighed at the news. Kylie had tears of joy and relief forming in her eyes. “When can we see him?” Kylie asked. Eduardo cringed a bit. The others still had no idea. Sooner or later, they’d have to know.

“Not yet, I’m afraid. The Doc says he’s still in the ICU, and will be on close watch for the next couple hours, but after that, yes. Janine just got here with Garrett and Roland and they’re waiting too. The Doc says he’s got all the signs of a strong recovery but he’s still very weak at the moment.”Winston paused, “ Man . . . I tell ya. That man always surprises me.” Kylie laughed a bit. “Guess those Twinkies endow nothing less than superpowers.” She laughed even more.

Her laughter echoed all the way up to the floor above. Through the hole in the floor where the fire pole was situated, sat a dark shadow. A pair of red eyes glowed as they gazed down at the two figures below. It had been listening intently, hoping to hear the sweet, melodic tune of the words “Egon is dead.” But no. He had made it! It angered the demon so. These Ghostbusters could do whatever they wanted. They control and trap the dead and now they seem as if they can elude death itself? Rage left the demons shifting facial features, and a sly smile stole across it’s lips. 

“They think they’re indestructible, well . . . I guess I’m just going to have to have a little more fun with this one then.” And as quietly as the specter had appeared, so did it vanish through the wall of the Ghostbusters headquarters.

“Thanks, Mr. Zeddemore. I needed that. I’m glad – we’re glad Egon’s okay.”

“We all are Kylie. We all are.”

They said their goodbyes, and Kylie slowly hung up the phone. 

Eduardo interrupted, “Wait!“

She came over to Eduardo and hugged him. “He’s ok. He made it!” Her voice muffled in his shirt. He hugged her back. It was bittersweet as the guilt still hung heavy in his heart.   
“Kylie?” He tried to get her attention.

“I’m sorry for shouting at you. I was just so worried.” She apologized. “You said it was a demon? I hope it likes its new home in the containment unit.”

“Uh- “The wavering sound escaped Eduardo’s throat.

“What?” Kylie started to pull back and looked at Eduardo’s stunned facial expression. “You did trap it, right?” She waited for an answer but received none.”You mean to tell me it’s still out there?”

He nodded.

“Oh my God,” she said, terrified.

"Yes, Kylie,the demon that did this to Egon is still out there, and I think the other Ghostbusters are in danger too! And now that Egon has pulled through -" He paused. “He may still be in danger.”

“How do you know all this?”

Eduardo panicked inside. “I –I just know, ok. Trust me.”

She looked at him inquisitively for a moment, then hurried over to the phone. “I’ll call Winston back. You- get the gear!” 

Eduardo disappeared to gather the gear as Kylie managed to route her call back to Winston at the hospital.

 

to be continued...


	6. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to anyone coming back to this chapter. I had previously uploaded it and checked to see if the whole thing had been pasted and it had, but apparently when I posted it it cut off most of the chapter. So here is ALL of chapter 6.

It was late at night- the hospital was eerily quiet except for the sounds of oxygen machines and heart monitors. The fluorescent lights buzzed in the hallways, contrasting the darkness of the patients’ rooms. Nurses and doctor’s weaved their way in and out of doorways silently.

One nurse was at the counter, reading under the light. She glanced around suspiciously as her finger slid down the paper on the clipboard she held. The names were alphabetical. She was searching for something, and finally she found it. “Spengler, Egon. Room 101.” A smile stole across her lips, and her eyes flashed a reddish hue.

She placed the clipboard back down, and set off down the hall. She approached Dr. Spengler’s room, only to bend over in the doorway, as if trying to catch her breath. Regaining composure, she continued down the hall, having forgotten her previous task. 

________________________________________ 

Room 101 was dark and ominous, but not as ominous as the shadow that began to form in the air at the foot of Egon’s bed. The red eyes appeared once again. It glanced over at the heart monitor, stirred by the weak pipping sounds that signaled his victims still beating heart. It continued looking around at all the towers surrounding Egon - towers with pouches and viles of fluids, blood, and various medicines. The demon smiled.

“Well, well, well, Dr. Spengler. Not looking your best, are you? I was surprised to hear you made it through. I would’ve thought differently. I guess I have Eduardo to thank for that. He didn’t do a good a job as I had hoped. But that’s why I’m here – to finish the job, and put an end to you,” it looked down pathetically at the top of the head sticking out of the blanket, “- and if you can hear me – all your friends too. I’m tired of petty human beings messing up all of my plans, so this one is coming straight from me-“ the demon’s black swirling mass began to shift. An arm with long claw-like fingers began to form, growing ever sharper, and ever more real with each passing second. It splayed the razored fingers up high, poised for attack. “-so maybe we’ll meet again Dr. Spengler. . . in the AFTERLIFE!” The demon readied his blow as the covers on the bed were tossed aside, and it was staring at a familiar face, but the wrong one. “What?!” The demon shrieked.

“Not where you’re going, you won’t be meeting - you son of a bitch!” Eduardo smiled in his concentration. 

“No!” The demon’s claws lashed out as Eduardo slammed the button down. The trap that had been situated between his boots, concealed under the sheets, opened, and with a flash of light the trap sucked the specter into its white abyss. Finally, as Eduardo picked up the smoking trap, he felt a sense of security and of redemption, knowing the dangers of what was inside was locked away forever. 

“Didn’t even need a proton stream for that!” He said mockingly pointing to the ghost inside, as he began removing the medical monitoring devices. But his sense of security was not to last. 

The door to the bathroom opened with a creak. Winston and Peter, who had been waiting as back up, appeared from inside. A small part of Eduardo had hoped they didn’t hear what the demon had divulged prior to its entrapment, but the expressions on their faces were apparent enough, and Eduardo’s sense of accomplishment disappeared. 

________________________________

 

Eduardo walked hurriedly out of the hospital entrance, with the other Ghostbusters hot on his trail. Peter finally caught up to Eduardo just on the edge of the parking lot and grabbed the collar of his shirt, whirling him around.

“-and how long did you think that would last? Huh? You think we wouldn’t find out?” Peter was furious. “All this time, it was YOU who pulled the trigger?”

“Peter, it wasn’t my f-”

“A bullet! A bullet for Egon? I knew you two never got along, but I didn’t know you’d take it this far!“ Peter interrupted, taking his focus of Eduardo as his voice choked up. “Egon trusted you, you know? But I don’t have to. GET OUT!” He threw Eduardo down on the ground hard. Winston and Ray tried to restrain Peter, all the while trying to fathom what just went down. 

Kylie ran over to Eduardo’s side. He could see a look of surprise and disappointment in her eyes. She helped him to his feet.

“Oh, you’re throwing in your lot with him, too? Then I don’t want any part of both of you! Get outta here!” Peter swung his arms around in the air over his head.

“Peter, it wasn’t his fault! You heard what the demon said! You saw what it tried to do!” She called after him, but he was already walking back towards the hospital.

Ray and Winston hung back. Eduardo couldn’t bare to look at them. There was a long pause. Winston put a hand on Eduardo’s shoulder. “Now, I don’t know exactly what went down that night, but maybe, in time, you’ll tell us.”

That being said, Winston and Ray went back inside, leaving Kylie and Eduardo behind.

________________________________________

 

The Doctor had told the Ghostbusters they would be able to see Egon earlier that evening, but having received word that a vengeful specter was seeking Egon out, they had alerted the staff of the impending danger. Egon and all the equipment was moved to a secret room, while Eduardo readied himself in Room 101- the only room registered to Dr. Spengler. Peter and Winston had accompanied Eduardo, while Ray stayed with Egon in case the plan went sour. 

Having cooled down from his confrontation with Eduardo earlier, Peter stood in the entrance to Egon’s room as Ray appeared from inside. “You sure you’re going to be alright?” Ray asked. Peter nodded, unable to speak. He moved, allowing Peter to pass into the room.

There was nothing easy about this. Peter saw Egon clearly for the first time since the accident. He had avoided looking, afraid of what had become of his best friend. Sure, busting ghosts had had its share of close calls, and with ghosts death was always in the recesses of one’s mind, but this was too close. Peter’s heart thumped in his chest as he caught sight of his colleague. Egon was always working, and he rarely slept, but now he just laid there in the hospital bed, propped up and head back. Motionless. Eyes shut. As Peter tried to block out the hissing of the oxygen machine as he squatted down beside the bed. His hand disappeared into his shirt pocket and he pulled out a pair of glasses. “Knew you’d be needing these. “ He smirked. “But you’re not getting them until you wake up.”

Egon didn’t respond. His mouth was slightly open. There were tubes running oxygen into his nose, and his chest gently rose and fell with such a long pause in between that it worried Peter. 

He gently placed his hand on Egon’s wrist- a wrist which almost could not be seen under all the IV’s and tape and wrist bands. So frail. He delicately interlocked his shorter fingers around Egon’s longer digits while trying to correct Egon’s matted hair with the other.

 

to be continued


	7. A Sight for Sore Eyes

Peter awoke slowly as the glowing morning light found its way through the hospital room window. The warmth of the sun felt good on his back, which was slightly achy due to the position he had fallen asleep in- half seated in a chair with his head on the side of the hospital bed. His arm that was on the bed had long since fallen asleep, and as he moved it, it started to tingle. Eyes still closed, Peter tried to reposition himself but his arm wouldn’t move, and as the feeling came back to his hand he became aware of a slight pressure surrounding it. 

Peter jerked his head up and saw Egon’s hand still locked around his. Egon’s grasp was cold and stiff. His heart skipped a beat. No. Why was Egon’s hand so rigid? He - he couldn’t be! Peter gripped tighter, trying to coax a reaction out of his seemingly lifeless friend, until finally the action was reciprocated. Peter felt Egon’s weak hand tighten around his. 

“Come on, big guy . . .” He felt a tear of joy trail down his face, dripping into the crease of his smile. “Come on, big guy . . . come on,” he said, rocking back and forth on the edge of the seat.

The sun was bright. Egon’s ghostly complexion was almost washed out entirely by the light coming in from the window. Peter watched as Egon’s tired body struggled back to consciousness. His eyes slowly cracked opened one at a time. Egon’s dark brows furrowed and he blinked repeatedly as his eyes adjusted to the waking world. There was an ethereal mood in the room, almost heavenly. All sense of time was lost, and for a minute Egon had forgotten why he was there. 

Head never moving, Egon’s eyes glanced around the room for a moment, observing his sterile environment. Then his somewhat puzzled gaze fell upon a familiar face.

“ ‘At a boy, Egie.” 

“Pe-ter?” Egon smiled faintly.

“Hey, big guy. I’m right here.” Peter’s voice cracked.

Egon’s smile disappeared. “Am I . . . dead?” He asked, his voice still groggy.

“No. No, you made it, bud. You gave us a hell of a scare but you made it.” Peter laid a hand on Egon’s shoulder, his other still holding his friends hand. “How you feelin’?”

Egon rolled his eyes and slowly mustered the strength to answer. “Like the . . . floor . . . of a . . . taxi cab.”

Peter remembered Egon saying that after their confrontation with Gozer. He smirked, trying to ignore the awful thought of what lay under the large dressing covering Egon’s side, or the clear tube snaking oxygen into Egon’s eagle-like nose. So many emotions flooded Peter’s mind. So many. “No, tell me how you really feel?”

“Like . . . shit. You don’t look too good . . . yourself, Peter.” Egon grinned, the corners of his mouth curling up devilishly, nostrils flaring. Egon swearing was a rare occurrence, but when he did it was something to behold. He seemed in good spirits, partially joking about his situation with Peter. But Peter watched as the strength faded and Egon eased his eyelids shut again. He took in a long, deep breath trying to relax, only to have the reason for his hospitalization come rushing back to him through a growing pain in his side. Egon grunted.

“Hang on man, I’ll get the nurse.”

As Peter rose from the bedside, Egon’s hand locked around his wrist with surprising speed. Sweat began to bead on Egon's forehead.

“Peter?” His voice was weary and hoarse with fear.

“What?” Asked Peter.

“Come right back.”

______________________________________

 

Peter returned, and after the nurse checked Egon over she gave him medication for his pain. Within minutes, the pain subsided. A look of utter contentment spread across the worn professor’s face and he slowly drifted back into a comfortable sleep.

Peter couldn’t contain himself any longer. After Egon had fallen asleep again, he quickly went out to the waiting area. Everyone was there - well, almost everyone – and the emotion bubbled up inside of him. “Egon’s awake – he made it!” He was weightless. Ray and Winston rushed over to him and soon Peter was the center of a bear-like embrace. Janine made her way over to them with tears of joy soaking her skin. Everything was good again. The agony of the past 24 hours had turned into ecstasy. Everything was going to be alright. The young ghostbusters joined in as well, but they couldn’t help but think of their two absent teammates.

________________________________________

Back at the firehouse, a duffle bag slammed down on the pool table. Kylie watched as her friend quickly scanned and rummaged through the equipment, looking for anything that belonged to him. He found a few odds and ends, threw them into the bag, and zipped it shut.

Hurriedly he made his way down the staircase. He walked across the room to the lockers- to the one that read “E. Rivera.” He flung the door open and scowled at what he saw. His uniform. A symbol of his former self and of something he used to aspire to. But that was all gone now. Changed- forever. 

Kylie had just made it down the steps when she saw the door to the firehouse shut. And just like that, Eduardo was gone, belongings and all.

_____________________________________________

 

A day or so passed, and Egon slowly began to gain his strength back. And because of his revival, there was no stopping the visitors. The doctor’s had advised them that only a few go in a time while Egon was still easily tired. Ray and Winston went in first. Garret and Roland were second. Janine; however, was the last to see him.

Janine had always loved Egon- from the moment she was first hired as the Ghostbusters headquarters secretary. But his feelings were always a mystery, kept under lock and key by his silent, brooding, secretive nature. 

Janine passed through the door into Egon’s hospital room. Nothing had prepared her for the initial shock of seeing Egon in such a weakened state. She sat down gingerly on the corner of the bed by his feet. He was still so frail and drawn. Her attention turned to the heart monitor – on every beat- not taking any for granted. She felt a lump in her throat. Life. Such a fragile gift. And what lay beyond in death? Such a mystery. But this gift was given back- snatched from the very brink of death. She and the others had gotten Egon back. Janine couldn’t bear to think what pain it would’ve caused had Egon been lost. 

Egon was comfortably sedated and in a shallow sleep. She sat there, watching him for a while, studying every detail of his features, from his dark chocolate hair and caterpillar eyebrows, to his aquiline nose. His glasses sat on the stand next to the bed. Somehow his face seemed more intriguing without the spectacles to hide behind. 

She slid closer. Egon stirred and when he saw her the heart monitor pipped a little faster.

Egon blushed slightly and she approached him, taking his hand in hers. After all, underneath the thin sheets of the hospital bed, he was in no way decent. The garments were so thin, and he felt all too vulnerable. 

“Janine.” He said softly.

How she loved to hear him utter her name. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said.

I’m glad you’re here too.” She smiled as she placed a tentative hand on his chest and leaned in. “I am not letting you out of my sight for long time.” She kissed his forehead. Janine was flattered as the monitor echoed a more rapid heartbeat.

 

to be continued . . .


	8. Old Wounds

Egon lay propped up, awake in bed. But something was on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking of Eduardo. He hadn’t seen him since that night. Everything had been such a blur, and despite all the pain he had been in, he managed to remember the look of shock on Eduardo’s face. Run! He had told him. Get out of here! And Eduardo obeyed. Now Egon had wished he had spoken differently, or maybe he wouldn’t be wondering what had become of his younger colleague.

Peter had been in the room for quite some time too. He was silent as well, pondering, and stood looking out of the hospital window with his arms crossed. Something too was troubling him. Either that or Egon thought maybe the hospital food was starting to get to him. He knew it was starting to get to him. What he wouldn’t give for a Crunch bar, or a Twinkie. 

The silence finally broke. “Doc says you’ll be able blow this joint by the end of the week.” Peter said, sitting back down on the bed next to Egon, who was now staring at the ceiling.

“It’ll be good to be back.” Egon said plainly.

“Yah.” There was a long silence between them. “Hey Egs? I want to ask you something- and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to-“ Peter looked up and saw a twinge of fear in Egon’s eyes. “What happened? That night . . . in the alleyway?”

Egon stalled. The memories played back vividly in his mind, so vividly he was sure Peter could see them somehow. The glowing eyes. The gun. Surely he was transparent.

BANG! “Uh I- I don’t know.” Egon was startled by his own thoughts. “I was collecting some mold samples when I heard something. I turned around. I never saw my assailant. That’s when I - when I . . . heard the shot.” Egon lowered his head, never looking at Peter. 

“Egon, I’ve known you too long, and I know that’s a lie.” Egon looked up at him, alarmed. Venkman put a hand on Egon’s shoulder. “I know about Eduardo, Egon.” His tone was stern. “I know he’s the one who shot you. You don’t have to protect him any longer.”  
Egon was at a loss for words. 

“But you’re safe now. That’s all that matters.” Peter reassured.

There was a look of utter disbelief and confusion on Egon’s face- his mouth was agape slightly as he tried to find an answer. “Ho-how do you know that?”  
Peter stayed silent for a moment. 

“How?” Egon’s voice was more demanding.

Peter gave in, as he stared at his reflection in the window. “A little demon told us.” Peter began. “He came here - the demon- to the hospital, looking for you the other night. He aimed to end it - said he was going to finish the job Eduardo had started. We stopped him before he had the chance.” 

A twinge of fear ran through Egon’s veins, realizing his previously unnoticed vulnerability while he had been unconscious. Contrary to his contained emotions, his voice proceeded softly and calmly. "How did you stop it?”

“The usual way- a couple proton packs and a trap-“

“No, Peter. How’d it happen? How’d it play out? I want to know.“ Egon wanted more information, but was cut off by a knock at the door. He turned to see a familiar face he had not seen in quite some time.

The doctor escorted Kylie in. As her gaze met Egon’s, she smiled. She was glad to see that her professor’s condition was improving. Egon smiled back weakly.

“Hey, Dr. Spengler…” Her voice trailed off, quivering slightly for joy and for other reasons. She knelt down next to him. A tear trickled down her cheek. “How’re you feelin’?”  
“Oh, I’ve been better.” He smirked. “Glad you could make it. How’s everything at the firehouse?”

“Oh, everything’s fine, the equipment’s fine. Slimer’s fine. Overeating as usual.” They both laughed. Egon put a hand lightly to his side and winced. “Are you okay?” Kylie rose to his aid as Peter turned from the window.

“Yeah,” he grumbled, “just got to watch I don’t shake myself to pieces.” He composed himself, fighting to find a more comfortable position for his still aching side.

Peter didn’t think he could stand it any longer. Seeing his best friend suffer so much pain ate him up inside. And what could he do but stand there useless while his friend’s body simply fought to function. 

Kylie stayed by his side for a while. As the tenseness in Egon’s body began to relax, Kylie could see his exhaustion, and excused herself so he could get some rest. Having witnessed even a fraction of the discomfort Egon had been in frightened her, and after all he’d been though she had had second thoughts about telling him about Eduardo. As she got up to leave, he called to her. 

“Kylie?”

“Yes, Dr. Spengler?”

“How’s Eduardo?” 

She paused. Kylie thought she would be able to leave before he’d ask, but she had no choice. Egon would have to know sooner or later, and she wasn’t about to lie to the man that had taught her everything she knew- about physics, about the paranormal, and the pursuit of truth. Egon followed her glance towards Peter, who was staying awfully silent. Unable to look Egon in the eye, she broke the news to him.

“Professor,” she paused, “I didn’t want to tell you this, but . . . Eduardo left.”

“No.”His eyes went wide. He looked at Peter again, yet Peter didn’t seem at all surprised, or even upset. “When?”

“Just the other day. He came back after you were admitted – even caught that demon that night in the hospital.” She choked up. “But he – I guess he still blames himself for what happened. I’m sorry. I tried to make him stay, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Kylie, it’s not your fault. Do you have any idea where he could’ve gone?”

“No. I tried to call his apartment. There was no answer.”

Egon bowed his head down and his glasses slid down his nose. Kylie put a hand on Egon’s in an attempt to reassure him. “We’ll find him. Don’t you worry.” She let go of his hand, and nodded to Peter as she left. 

Egon was drained, and the vigor that had appeared to have returned to him left once again. Peter quietly slunk past the bed, knowing Egon’s attention would soon fall upon him. The fact that Peter was now avoiding was proof enough that things had transpired between the Mouth of the Ghostbusters and his younger counterpart.

“Peter?” Egon’s deep resonating voice sent a prickle up Peter’s spine. He could already see his friend’s body language respond defensively. Fortunately he knew how to get through to Peter without warranting Peter’s wrath. The last thing you’d want to do is back a threatened animal into a corner. 

“Yah, Spengs?”

“I don’t know what happened between you and Eduardo, or if anything did happen, but it’s not too late, Peter. Eduardo didn’t pull the trigger on that gun, and I think you know that. You knew it all along. You just have a hard time admitting it sometimes.” Egon arched his eyebrows . “All that demon wanted to do was tear us all apart. Don’t allow him to win. I know you hate to lose.” He affirmed, grinning slightly.

Peter glared at his friend. He couldn’t be angry with Egon, and he knew his older colleague was right. Egon, although seeming to lack most emotions, oddly enough proved himself to be a wizened sage when it came to mending the bonds of comradery. Peter just didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t the type to easily admit his own shortcomings, case and point. He shook his head. 

“Damn it, Spengs!” Peter waved his arms in the air. He plopped down next to his friend.   
Egon couldn’t tell if he had incurred Peter’s wrath or not. “Why do you always have to be right? You know, you don’t like to lose either. Am I right?” Egon didn’t know how to respond. “That’s why you’re still here. You don’t give up.” Before Egon could tell the conversational tone had changed, Peter smiled and pulled something out from his coat pocket. “Here. You definitely have earned this one.” Egon ran a finger over the smooth and crinkly Crunch bar wrapper in his hands, and smiled.

“Shh, don’t tell the nurse.” Venkman added, half jokingly.

 

to be continued...


	9. Healing

After laying in the hospital bed for what seemed like an eternity, and intermittently being guided aimlessly around the room to get his strength up, Egon was finally released from the hospital. Comfortable as his attire was, Egon couldn’t help but feel underdressed in his sweat suit and sneakers. It was quite a step down from his usual suit and tie, and to top it all off, he was given a cane to help him around if no one was there, but there was no shortage of help. 

The doors to the firehouse drew open, and the Ecto backed into the garage. Peter escorted Egon out, guiding his waist like a tango dancer, all the while trying not to bump his side, which was still heavily bandaged. Egon was greatful for all the assistance. Lord knew he needed it, but never before had he found himself in such a needy position. It was odd being the center of attention.

Having been in the hospitals sterile environment for so long, Egon was more attune to the unique and homey scent of the Ghostbusters headquarters. Contrary to his former perception of the interior, the atmosphere seemed warm and inviting. But nothing had changed, at least, to his knowledge. The building was still the same. He was the one who must’ve changed.

Janine hurried over from the desk with Kylie to take over for the guys. Although slightly uncomfortable with the two women now escorting him on either side, he allowed it. He tried hard not to depend on the cane in front of Janine, but it was too much, and now they stood at the base of the stairwell. He was overwhelmed just looking at it.

Peter turned to Ray and Winston as the girls led Egon up to the bunk room. Peter couldn’t get any words out, but the others knew what he meant when he clapped his hand down on Ray’s shoulder and squeezed. Ray saw Peter’s eyes glass over as he cleared his throat.

“I know, man. We’re all glad he’s back. It’d never be the same without him.” Ray confided.

________________________________________

Days went by, and the crew at the firehouse had to make due with only three of the original ghostbusting team, while the brains of their operation still was recuperating. It wasn’t long before Egon ventured down to the lab to start tinkering away, after having been away from his experiments for so long. Things were starting to return to normal, or so the others thought.

Ping. Bang! BOOM! The crashing sounds from the lab startled Peter, who was dozing on the couch upstairs while the young busters were out on a call. Peter rubbed his eyes, sleepily. “Slimer, I swear when I get down there, you better –“

He rounded the bottom of the stairwell and turned into the lab. Slimer was no where to be found. There was only Egon, whom he thought had gone up to bed. As Peter came into the room, Egon picked up a wrench and flung it at a trash bin in the corner of the room. 

BAM! Peter jumped yet all the while running towards his friend. Egon growled as he awkwardly reared up to kick the trash bin while still putting weight on the cane. The butt of the cane slipped on some liquid from a broken beaker that had spilled on the tile floor and Egon went falling backwards. Peter was able to reach Egon in time, bearing half his weight while Egon managed to cling to the edge of a table. 

“Hey, hey, whoa whoa whoa! Easy big guy.”Peter said as he grappled with Egon’s dead weight, and eventually gave up. They both fell to the floor with a thud, wincing upon impact. A cascade of disturbed papers floated of the edge of the table to the floor next to them.

As Peter propped himself up after the fall, he noticed Egon had been crying. Tears streamed down his face and his upper teeth but his lower lip in frustration. His hair was disheveled, his glasses were smeared with salt and tears, and his body silently heaved with each sob. 

Peter had no idea what to make of this, and the disorientation from having only recently woken from sleep didn’t help either. “Hey, come on. Talk to me, man. What’s going on?” He eyed the room for damage. There was hardly any, but he noticed something else. There were absolutely no new experiments. No new prototypes. In fact, it looked as if no work had been done since Egon had come back. “Talk to me, Egon!”

Egon opened his bloodshot eyes, and glanced at Peter. Egon looked different. He looked scared- frightened -like a little kid. “Peter?”

“What is it?”

“Peter, I need help.”

“What do you mean?”

Egon swallowed and tried to compose himself. “I – I’m scared Peter. For the first time in my life I am truly scared-ever since that night. More than the time we first tested the nuclear proton packs. Even more than the time we faced armageddon, and Terror dogs, and blew up the top half of the apartment building on the West Side and doused half of Manhattan in marshmallow.”

Peter sat there as Egon recollected. 

“I thought I was going to die. I very nearly was.” He stared off into space as he recollected. “All those times before I had you guys by my side-we were in danger and I wasn’t frightened the way I was that night. I was so alone- so far away. The small part of me that was still conscious when you arrived thought I wouldn’t have the strength to make it back. I felt like I was caught in a black hole, and if I called out, no one would be able to hear me.”

Peter knew this was not time for a joke, and that the gravity of the conversation demanded his undivided attention.

“You know I went into the alleyway to get some air and to think things through. I was so overwhelmed- always getting caught in the middle of things back here. I wanted to get away from it all. And . . . I almost got my wish. I’m glad I didn’t.”

Peter lifted Egon’s salt spattered spectacles from his nose, and began to clean them with the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Thanks, Peter.” Egon said as he placed his glasses back on. “I hate what that demon did to me, and to Eduardo. And us.” His voice grew deeper as he choked up. “Eduardo blames himself for what happened, and now he’s out there, somewhere. Who knows what path he’s found himself on.” He corrected his posture as he began to slide on the cold tile floor. His breath hitched as his side cramped, and he supported himself with his long arms. Peter helped him back up into a sitting position. “And I’m in here.” He said angrily, fighting what pain was still left. “A damn invalid.”

There was a long pause, and Egon’s breathing became more relaxed. “I,” he said, shutting his eyes. “I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything. I’m failing at my work, Peter. I can’t focus. I’m no good anymore. I just can’t stop thinking about Eduardo, and that night. I’m afraid, Peter, and this fear won’t go away.”  
Peter could only listen.

“I’m afraid something like this will happen again – that the demon will find me- and . . . and that’s a place I never want to go again.” He shut his eyelids tightly, as if that could block out the horrible thoughts and memories.

Peter pulled Egon to him, and hugged him. He felt Egon’s long arms wrap around him and grip the fabric on the back of his sweatshirt for dear life. 

“Let it out, bud. Let it out.”

Peter lay there on the chilled floor of the lab, holding his friend as he wept.

_____________________________________

 

Peter closed the door of the firehouse after Janine had left for the evening, and silently slunk over to the filing cabinet. He pulled open a few drawers until he was sure he’d found the right one and began fingering through the manila folders until he found one marked “Rivera, E.”

He dialed the listed phone number and the line began to ring, and ring. Peter’s heart pounded and secretly he wanted more time before he would have to do this. His hands began to sweat, and he wiped them on the side of his pants. Finally the message machine picked up, but he panicked hung up before he could leave one.

Peter hung up the phone. He glanced down at the paper and saw that there was an address listed as well.

_____________________________________________

 

Peter walked up the tight stairwell. There was a dingy odor eminating from every nook and cranny, and the paint on the walls and long since started to peel and chip. He sauntered down the hallway until he found the wooden door with the corresponding number on the address. He breathed in and knocked. And waited.

Peter waited for what seemed like forever. After a minute more he turned quietly to leave, but was met by a very large, sloppily dressed, balding man who gruffly uttered “Kin I help yous?”

Peter tried not to stare, and tried to inhale either, but he sucked it up. This may be the best shot he would have at finding Eduardo’s whereabouts. 

“Uh, yes, actually. And you are…?”

“Antonio, de landlord. You?” The Italian atmosphere was thick, and Peter felt if he stayed any longer he might be the next victim inducted into the local mafia.

“Peter.” He reluctantly held out a hand for the man to shake. “I’m looking for Eduardo Rivera. Lives in that apartment right over there.”He said, pointing. “Have you seen him?”

“Have I seen him? Yah, sure. When he gave me his last month’s rent and told me he was leavin’.”

“Leaving?” Peter felt sick to his stomach.

“Yeeeaaaahhh. Told me he was goin’ to stay wit a frind a’his over de utter side a’town.”

“Could you give me the address?”

“Oooo, I don’t know. Was a long time ago.”

“Anything would help. Please? You’ve gotta remember something.”

___________________________________________________

 

Peter found himself at yet another door. This one was a little nicer, and the building didn’t smell as foul as the last. It had been a long day, and he denied himself the comfort of laying down, curling up against the wall and falling to sleep. This was for Egon. He had made this mess, and he was going to make it right. He stood there for a while, listening to the voices from inside. His heart leapt when he recognized one. That had to be Eduardo, he thought. He breathed out heavily, and gave a few knocks on the door.  
A young man, about Eduardo’s age, came to the door. The man was of Latino descent, with spiked hair and darning a white tank top, and from the looks of it he spent the better part of his days lifting weights.

“Who are you?”

“Uh, my name is Peter- Peter Venkman. I’m looking for Eduardo. Eduardo Rivera. Is he here? It’s important.” He tried to peer into the room but the man shifted to block his view.

“There ain’t no Eduardo Rivera here.”

“Come on, I know I heard him. He’s gotta be in there.”

The man was stern and raised his voice a little, “I said . . . there’s no Eduardo here.” He glared at Peter with dark brown eyes, never blinking. This was one guy Peter did not want to mess with, and from the looks of it the fight would be ruled in the other man’s favor in a matter of seconds.

“Alright, alright. I tried. You see,” Peter knew all too well Eduardo had to be in the next room listening in, “I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for me. I’m doing this for my friend, Egon. Ever since he found out Eduardo left it’s been tearing him up inside. And,” Peter paused, “I would’ve liked to have had the chance to say I’m sorry, for everything. But that doesn’t matter now. I have no where else to go. It was nice talking to you.”

“Hey, see you, man.”

Peter walked off down the hallway to the stairwell, and the man shut the door. He ventured over to the window to watch as Peter left the building and carried on down the street. 

“Well,” the man said, “I did what you told me to do. If you ask me, you got a hell of a group of friends if their willing to come all the way out here, to dis neighborhood to find you.”

__________________________________________________

 

Snow was beginning to fall beneath the lamplights, and the sidewalks were getting icy. Somehow the mesmerizing white fluff falling from the sky seemed to cast a calmness over the city. Carolers were out, and every shop window was decorated to the max. It as a rather beautiful sight, and a nice night for a brisk walk in the Big Apple, but inside, Peter didn’t feel great at all.

He had failed his friend, and had ostracized another. Maybe the demon wasn’t the evil in this string of events. Maybe he was.

He finally made it to the headquarters on the corner of North Moore, and swung the door shut so hard that it knocked all the snow off the wreath that was hanging on the outside.   
Janine was just getting ready to head home, and stared at him awkwardly through thick glasses as he made his way past her.

“Are you alright, Dr. Venkman?”

He ignored her question. “How is he?”

She smirked. “Sleeping like a baby.” She gestured to the lab.

________________________________________________

 

Peter made his way down to the lab. Egon was fast asleep on the couch in his slacks, sweater vest, and tie. Peter stood stood over him. Egon’s glasses were askew on his nose, his mouth was open slightly and Peter could swear he heard the faint beginnings of a snore.

Peter grabbed the blanket from the end, sliding it out from under Egon’s socked feet, trying not to wake him. As he went to cover Egon, he noticed something hidden under the physicist’s palm. It was a framed photo of the two teams- the young Ghostbusters (who liked to refer to themselves as the Extreme Ghostbusters), and the original team. Peter smiled, a mixture joy and shame welling up inside him. He drew the blanket up over his friend, tucking the edge of the blanket under Egon’s chin.

“Rest easy, my friend.” Peter said under his breath. Before Egon’s emotional conversation with Peter a few nights before, he looked like hadn’t slept since before the accident. But it appeared that letting his emotions pour out of him as they did had done him some good. 

Peter pinched the arms of Egon’s round metal glasses between his fingers and lifted them off carefully. Egon shifted in his sleep, half opening his eyes and then shutting them again, muttering something about an equation.

Peter froze, but Egon drifted back to sleep, and he rested the spectacles on the end table under the lamp.

“What would I do without you?” Peter quietly asked, rhetorically.

Egon answered with a loud snore that was only one decibel lower than a chainsaw. 

“Hmph.” Peter had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. As he got up to leave the room, he turned to take one last look for the night, making sure his friend was alright.

 

To be continued…


	10. The Gift

The snow from the night before had ended and the air above the city was cleaner and crisper than ever. Bright colors painted the clouds that hung in the frozen air.

Egon awoke to the smell of good cooking coming from the kitchen. He was normally the first one to rise, but today, even the sun had beaten him. It was Christmas morning.

He rose slowly, aware of every muscle and fiber flexing in his lanky body. He sat up and the blanket that had been put on him slipped off onto the floor, along with the picture he had been holding.

“Oh, Peter.”

He tenderly picked it up and placed it on the table where his glasses were after giving it one last look. He put his glasses on, ran his fingers through his dark hair, and straightened out his attire that had twisted and shifted up along his body during the night. He sat on the edge of the couch for a few moments, still guarding his side by keeping his arm locked against his ribs.

Christmas. Of all days to feel this way. He dug deep down inside to find the will to move. He needed motivation. Without motivation, and his scientific creativity he had nothing. Egon had lost the spark- the spark which each person carries and drives them on blindly. The spark that fills them with hope and desire and passion. The magic was gone.

Maybe it’s just the holiday, he thought. So many people often judge and measure up their lives on milestones like Christmas and New Year’s. And Egon had never experienced very joyous Christmas’s before. His family had never observed the holiday, nor had they observed the act of gift giving, which probably had something to do with Egon’s seemingly cold and unfeeling outward demeanor. That, and having been ostracized by his own family may have been the reason. Christmas, all and all, was not a pleasant experience for him, and this year more than ever.

He glanced around the lab, appalled at the shortage of progress he had made during the last month. The frustration he felt fueled him enough to push himself up from the sofa, and make his way to the shower.

______________________________________

 

He let the warm water sooth his aching muscles, and in some way prayed the water would wash away all the fear and sadness he was harboring inside. Egon leaned closer to the showerhead, letting the cascade flatten his hair and run down his face. He shut his eyes tightly to prevent burning from the soap suds. The steam entered his lungs and began to loosen him up. 

______________________________________

 

Egon peered at his reflection in the mirror. God, he looked awful. Even after cleaning up. He supposed there was no fooling anyone. It was as plain as the nose on his face, and the round scar on his abdomen, which he couldn’t avoid seeing every day. The grotesque bruise that had once surrounded the mark had vanished, and there was only a small scar, about the size of a quarter left to mar his near perfect skin. How can something so tiny cause so much pain? He thought. He buttoned up his shirt and drew up his slacks and made his way to the kitchen.

______________________________________

 

The greeting he received from everyone was enough to snap him out of his daze, but still not enough to cure his depression. 

“Hey, big guy! And what will you be having on this fine morning?” Peter had definitely already had his caffeine for the morning. He pointed to the buffet of pancakes, eggs, bacon, etc… that would’ve put any restaurant to shame.

“Surprise me.” Egon said with a twinge of a smile, not really in the mood for making any decision at all. 

“All righty then- let’s get an everything plate for the big man!” 

Ray, Winston, Janine, Kylie and the young ghostbusters had already finished half their meals when Egon sat down. The radio was on and Christmas music was in full swing. Peter brought Egon’s plate over to him.

“Thank you, Pete-,” he stopped when he discovered that his “everything plate” had been reduced to a low calorie plate.

Peter did a double take when he realized what had happened. “Slimer, I swear- worse things would be coming out of my mouth if this wasn’t a Holy day!” The others laughed and Janine fixed Egon another plate with no slime on the side while Peter ran off to teach the spud a lesson.

______________________________________

 

Egon poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped a little off the top, testing the temperature. He was no doubt procrastinating , hoping his tinkering muse would once again find him before he finished the last drop. He made his way down the stairwell to the lab.

Janine hollered down, “Egon? Where’re you going?”

“Just to the lab.” He said casually.

“Why don’t you spend some time with us up here, Egon. We haven’t seen very much of you lately?”

This much was true.

“I won’t be long.” He said.

“Okay,” she said, skeptically.

He meandered past large chrome fenders of the white Ecto-1A when he realized the door that led out to the sidewalk was open. 

“Ugh,” he grumbled, diverting over to entrance to lock the cold air out. He was mid sip when he realized the door hadn’t been left open, but that someone was coming in.

His eyes lifted from the coffee cup just as the figure came into the room and shut the door behind. The bright light, amplified by the white snow, had whited-out the figures features. When the light dimmed, and the figure approached from the far end of the garage, Egon’s mouth fell open and the coffee mug fell from his hands, shattering loudly and spilling all over the concrete floor. The sound echoed to the second floor.

Voices were heard as the others called down the stairwell.

“Egon, are you alright?” Janine shouted as she hurried down the steps. She was accompanied by the others. “Is everything o-,” she stopped.

Egon moved closer to the young man. His legs felt funny, as if they were both made of jelly and built to run a 5K at the same time.

He couldn’t believe it. “Eduardo?” Egon’s eyes bugged.

“Egon.” Eduardo said, looking Egon over to make sure he was in one piece. He had not seen his mentor since that night. He had heard Egon had made it through surgery, but apart from that the man’s fate had been a mystery to him. And here he was, standing upright, looking completely stunned and awkward as usual. Eduardo brushed the snow drift from his spiked hair.

Egon couldn’t help. He felt a burst of emotion welling up inside him, so much so that if he didn’t release them he was sure he’d expire to the floor. He fell forward so suddenly that it caught Eduardo off guard, but before long he felt Egon’s long but strong arms embracing him. He heard a whimper come from the older man, and that didn’t help him.

“Damnit, Spengs, now you’re going to make me cry.” Eduardo reciprocated the embrace. 

Peter came down, and when he saw the two together, all the bitterness and shame he had felt just seconds ago melted away.

“I thought . . . you were gone for good.” Egon’s voice was muffled against the fabric of Eduardo’s coat.

“I could have said the same about you.” Eduardo squeaked out. “You tough old bird, you.” Egon grinned as Eduardo gave a gentle pat on his back.

“Give me some credit. I’m not that old yet.” Egon was smiling ear to ear. There was a glow from within him. It seemed the spark had returned. He braced himself on his younger colleague’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “I’m glad to have you here with us again. If I may ask, what made decide to come back?”

“Well,” he looked over at Peter, “something told me you guys needed me, especially you.” He pointed to Egon’s chest. “I couldn’t let down the team.” He reached up and ruffled Egon’s hair.

“Why does everyone love doing that?” Egon inquired, already knowing the answer. Everyone laughed.

“Because we love ya, Spengs.” Peter answered. “Not to mention the fact that Janine thinks you look sexy with your hair messed up a little.” He winked.

“Hey!” Janine blushed a shade of crimson. 

“And not just you, Spengs, but everyone in this room-,” he put a hand on Eduardo’s shoulder, “is family.”

Eduardo didn’t have to thank Peter. His expression was enough. And with that the group found their way back up the stairs, huddled close together, chatting about the time they’d been apart. 

Egon was close behind. All in the world seemed right again. The hole in his side wasn’t the only empty space that had healed. His broken, fear-filled heart somehow felt whole again, and a little stronger. After all, this was the first Christmas he had ever received a gift.

 

THE END


End file.
